


Read the Signs

by orphan_account



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Depression, M/M, Post-Canon, mention of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 12:54:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6195901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you believe that if you can understand how <i>we</i> work, you’ll figure out how <i>you</i> work?”</p><p>Trowa missed the rush of free-falling. Duo showed him how to fly again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Read the Signs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The Manwell (Manniness)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manniness/gifts).



> This is all Manny's fault. So, here, have eight thousand words of boys being dorks.
> 
> un-beta'd

“You’re a Virgo,” Duo said, leaning over Heero’s shoulder and pointing to the open newspaper. “So don’t overthink and you won’t sabotage yourself.”

Heero didn’t seem to care for the warning, didn’t appear to even hear it as he worked at his computer, going through the emails that had been sent the night before. Trowa was doing that himself, four desks down, listening as Duo read out everyone’s horoscopes.

“You realize those are made up,” Wufei said, leaning against Heero’s desk and reaching for the paper. Duo swatted at his hand, grabbing the paper and jumping back, clutching it to his chest, scandalized.

“How dare you! It’s a _science!_ ”

“A _made-up_ science!”

It was a familiar argument by this point; one Trowa had been privy to every morning. Duo discovered the existence of horoscopes in the paper a month ago, and they had indulged him at first; it was the first genuine interest he’d shown anything since their, quote-unquote _employment,_ began at the Preventers. They’d been grounded and shunted behind desks, the safest place they figured they could put five former child-soldiers that wasn’t a prison cell. It was ‘an aim to be humane’ or some other propaganda-riddled bullshit, but all it meant was they were slowly being driven mad by mediocrity.

However, it was harder and harder for some of them to keep the appearances of interest, and Wufei had been the first to crack a week into pretending. The argument started after that, and still hadn’t ended.

Heero would be the next to fall; Trowa had money riding on it, so he hoped Duo didn’t let him down.

“What’s mine?” Quatre asked, cutting into the argument before it could get too serious. Duo brightened, snapping open the crumpled newspaper with a sharp _snap!_ that rang through the nearly empty office, and humming in thought, he slid a finger down to where he presumed Quatre’s assigned star sign was located on the page. Trowa watched from the corner of his eye, organizing the emails from ‘should look at today’ to ‘who will notice if this goes missing.’

“You’ve got your eye on the prize, avoid giving in to whimsical, temporal wants and you’ll achieve your goal,” Duo read out, and Quatre smiled, nodding and tossing another piece of mail into one of the numerous trays spread out along his desk.

“Which could mean _anything!_ It’s so vague _anyone_ could read it, Sagittarius or not! Not to mention Quatre was born in June–”

“Chang, shut up, you’re spitting in my ear,” Heero said, clicking the mouse. The office fell silent, only to be broken by Duo’s laughter a split second later, and then Wufei’s indignant shouting.

“I don’t _spit!_ ”

“Only when you’re yelling,” Heero corrected, and the attention was neatly diverted before Duo’s interests could be crushed.

 _Just what a good boyfriend should do,_ Trowa thought, and he felt the familiar tightness building in his chest at the thought, his hand gripping the mouse enough to make it crack. There were already several fractures along the plastic casing, so one more would go unnoticed, but Quatre looked up at him, being the closest to him and having heard it.

“Trowa, that’s the fourth time this week,” he said, soft enough for the others to not hear it over the racket they were making. Trowa shook his head, not meeting the blue eyes that always saw straight through him.

“I think if you went to counseling…” Quatre started, but the other three were beginning to calm from their antics, and he shut his mouth, giving Trowa a look he’d learned to know meant, “ _We’re going to talk about it later, don’t think you’ve gotten away with this._ ”

* * *

Trowa’s apartment wasn’t very big. A bed was pushed into one corner, a desk into the other, with a small nightstand in between the two, and a stove, sink, and fridge on the last remaining wall. There was a small closet beside the bathroom, and then front door.

Trowa didn’t have a window. He preferred it that way. Quatre said it was dangerous, that if something happened Trowa would be trapped, but he neglected to point out he _also_ preferred it that way.

He lived on the top floor. Two college students lived below him, and an old woman lived to his right, opposite the wall his desk was against. He had no one to his left, as that was the edge of the building, and there was no one behind him, either.

The two units that touched his were loud. The college students would be playing music, video games, and entertaining company on a daily basis. Their parties were even worse, and he’d heard them fucking a few times since he’d moved in, too. The old woman, nearly deaf and half-senile, was less-intentional in her noise, most of it caused from bumping into things and knocking them over, or watching television at full-volume.

It made up for the lack of noise coming from Trowa’s apartment. He wondered if they even knew he lived there. He had never introduced himself, or had given them reason to drop in on him, as he’d heard neighbours were supposed to do. Quatre’s did, often enough, and Duo’s did as well. Wufei didn’t have neigbours, and if Heero had a companionable relationship with his, he’d never mentioned it. But he never complained about the noise his neighbours made, as it gave Trowa something to focus on. Something besides the thoughts that would run rampant in his mind, stealing over him in the dark, quiet times. If the college kids stayed up until 5 in the morning doing drugs and playing war games, all the better. If Mrs. Betty binged on soap operas on Trowa’s rare day off, good for her.

If Quatre had figured this out by now, he’d tell Trowa it was unhealthy. That it was reckless, dangerous, and Trowa was going to drive himself insane. That he could always go speak to one of the Preventer-certified psychologists and ‘learn to live in Peace.’

Quatre would say that the rest of them moved on, that they were embracing their future and that Trowa wasn’t doing the same. But then, Quatre often said a lot of things that Trowa disregarded. Because what future did they have when the rest of the world still didn’t know how to handle their existence? Handle the truth about the five of them, who they were, and what they’d done? No, Trowa didn’t see the point in playing their games.

He stretched out along the bed, feet dangling over the edge as he crossed his arms to pillow his head. This, right here, was more than he’d ever thought he’d own, and it was more than he deserved. He reached out with his left hand, brushing the taped newspaper clippings hanging from his wall, brushing over the predictions that had enthralled Duo. He didn’t believe in them as Duo did, but he didn’t feel as if telling Duo this would be of any benefit, such as Wufei had taken to doing.

 _“Take your chances and share what’s on your mind. You will find yourself pleasantly surprised,”_ he read, lips quirking. If he did that, the delicate balance they had would be ruined. So he let his hand drop, let his hopes fade, and rolled onto his back, the pulsing of the bass below him and the theatrical screams from the side drowning out the thoughts he couldn’t share.

* * *

His mouse had been replaced. He figured it was Quatre, but the blond never mentioned it and Trowa didn’t bring it up. Instead, he worked, listening as Duo started talking about compatibility and destiny and that each sign got along better with certain signs in a complicated mess that made sense to no one but Duo, apparently.

“You can’t just boil it down to that,” Wufei countered, once again using Heero’s desk as a battle ground. The man caught in the middle didn’t seem to care, working through his emails as if there weren’t a verbal dispute flying right above his head. Duo crossed his arms, leaning back and looking down his nose at Wufei, to the man’s ire.

“Why not? There’s a lot of research and study that’s gone into this—”

“That differs depending on what source you use. Duo, I applaud your interest and dedication, but you cannot pass hypothetical fortune telling as _concrete fact_.”

The room fell silent, and even Quatre didn’t appear to be able to come up with something to say to break the silence. Duo closed his mouth, pain flashing in his eyes before he covered it up, a grin stretching across his face that was far from friendly.

“Got the memo, Wu-man,” he said, giving a salute and picking up the newspaper. He sauntered from the office, a swing in his step that had Trowa’s gaze drifting to the end of the man’s braid, brushing against the swell of his ass.

“You’re an asshole,” Trowa murmured, rising from his seat and grabbing his jacket. Wufei turned, shock crossing his face, and before he could respond, Trowa was out the door, the wood slamming behind him. Seven long strides had him catching up to Duo, dropping his coat over the other’s shoulders, and a hand under his elbow pulling him into a stairwell that neither of them should have been able to access.

“Tro, what–?” Duo started, but Trowa pressed a finger to his lips, gesturing up. Duo grinned, eyes brightening, and they made their way up the concrete stairs to the metal door, Trowa sliding the lock out of place and holding it open, gesturing for Duo to go first.

“You realize we’re not allowed up here,” Duo said, once the door was closed behind them. Trowa shrugged, walking over to the short railing that separated the roof from the open air beyond it. He sat on it, leaning back, feeling all twelve stories of building in the vast emptiness against his back. Duo opted to not join him, instead sitting by Trowa’s feet and gazing out over the city.

“Hey! I can see my house from here!”

Trowa hummed, eyes falling to where Duo’s apartment was located, more from habit than needing to search. He had pinpointed everyone’s locations, Wufei’s small townhouse a couple blocks away, Quatre’s one-story home in what accounted for the suburbs, and then Trowa’s apartment towering over the fringes of the industrial district. Duo’s apartment was closer to downtown, a two-bedroom that overlooked the city park.

“Where’s your place, Tro?” Duo asked, and Trowa’s eyes moved from the cityscape, tilting up to the overcast sky as he gave a shrug.

“Why did you follow me out?”

“You didn’t read my horoscope today,” Trowa murmured, and Duo flushed darkly, looking down at the crumpled newspaper in his hands, torn from the force of his earlier anger.

“I… didn’t know you cared,” he said.

“You do. That’s all that matters, doesn’t it?” Trowa asked, and he could feel Duo’s stare burning against his skin.

“You’re a strange one, Barton.”

Trowa didn’t answer, as there was nothing to say. He was, and he knew it, but it didn’t matter. They were all a little strange, a little weird, and that was why the world couldn’t figure out quite what to do with them yet. Why the five of them worked in one little office, video monitors and microphones picking up each and every conversation they had, whispered or exuberant, to make sure they weren’t plotting to take over the world.

Trowa was pretty sure the only thing he’d been plotting was how to get Duo into his bed, but Heero had beaten him to that. Now the only plot brewing in Trowa’s mind was to see how many emails he could make disappear before someone figured out what he was doing.

“So, on a scale of one to prison, how much trouble are we for being up here?” Duo asked, stretching his legs out, catching the bottom rung of the railing with his boot and tugging against it. Trowa hummed, a small little smile dancing across his face, but only the clouds could see it.

“A month probation, new security locks being put in the building, house arrest. If I lean back far enough, you might get away with it if you pull the sympathy card.”

“ _Are_ you going to lean back far enough?” Duo asked, voice still pleasant, unaffected.

“Not today. Didn’t wear my best suit.”

“Good. I don’t feel up to pulling out the waterworks. I’m saving that for the next time I feel like skipping work.”

They sat there in silence, the wind starting to pick up, tousling their hair and stinging at their cheeks. Trowa had his feet latched onto the bar, anchoring him as he stretched out backward, arms spreading to his side as he looked up into the clear blue sky.

“I will, though,” Trowa promised. He felt a hand touch his ankle, but it barely registered. “I miss the feeling.”

He did. He missed the feeling of freefalling, of gravity pulling at his body, the wind rushing past him. The way his stomach and chest would tighten, his senses heightening as adrenaline pumped through him. The hand around his ankle tightened, bringing him back to the earth, to the moment, away from that longing ache he’d grown so familiar with.

“I do, too. Let’s ditch, I wanna show you something.”

* * *

The building was empty, but that didn’t stop the two of them from getting inside, the natural light from outside cascading through the empty hallways that echoed each and every one of their footsteps. When they reached a large door, Duo knelt down, jimmying the lock, and then pushed in, the door slamming loudly against the wall. It barely went noticed by Trowa, who was fixated on the sight before him.

The floor was mostly padded, long bars coming up in different lengths set seemingly at random, along with some bars and other strange objects he wasn’t sure the use for. Duo leaned against the doorway, watching Trowa with an unreadable look in his eyes.

“I know it’s not the circus, and like fuck it will ever compare to flying… but you _can_ fall here.”

Trowa slid his shoes off, leaving them behind as he stepped up onto the padded floor, toes digging into the springy foam. There was a bin of chalk to the side, and he made his way over, pulling the lid off and slipping his hand inside. He should warm up, he knew that, it had been almost a year since he’d last pulled off anything more strenuous than climbing the stairs to his apartment, but he couldn’t stop himself from stepping back, eyeing the first bar, and then launching himself forward.

Duo was right; it wasn’t the same. Nothing could compare to the feeling of freefall, but he still could leave the ground behind, swing himself higher, as high as the bars would let him go. He forgot that they were skipping work. Forgot that Duo was watching him, was witnessing Trowa fading from the reality they were in and transcending to that place only found between the sky and the ground. Forgot that when he got home that night Mrs. Betty would be catching up on the rest of the slasher films she’d rented, or that the two college kids below him would be having their weekly house party. Forget that tomorrow morning he’d be reprimanded for skipping out today, and monitored more closely to prevent it from happening again.

He forgot it all, and launched himself higher, faster, throwing himself into the air and letting gravity steal over him, almost letting it win before grabbing onto another bar, swinging himself back around and continuing his pursuit. His muscles ached, burning with exertion, his breath coming in sharp pants, and his limbs trembling more with every passing minute. He swung himself up on the highest bar, perching for a moment, and out the window he could see the sun shining brightly beyond the city, illuminating the world in a way Trowa hadn’t been able to appreciate. He took in a sharp breath, and then stood, leaning back with his arms outstretched, and fell.

It hurt. Not as much as it would have without the padding, but his body protested the impact nonetheless. He felt all the air leave him in one rush, stunning him, and he stared up at the ceiling in a daze. He didn’t attempt to move, didn’t attempt to push himself upright, and soon his view of the glass-panel ceiling was blocked by dancing violet eyes, framed in dark lashes, and the sensation of hair tickling his neck had him tilting his head to the side, away from the braid.

“Status?” Duo asked, and Trowa hummed, letting his eyes fall close. He heard laughter, and then there was a weight against his chest, warmth pressing up along his side, and fingers lacing into his left hand.

“Do you know why I started reading those?” he asked, and Trowa felt his hand being lifted, still laced with Duo’s, but he didn’t open his eyes. He felt Duo shifting, a knee sliding in between his own. Fingers traced the curve of his cheek, sweeping away sweat-soaked hair and cupping his face.

“I needed something to do. I couldn’t work in the garage, couldn’t leave the office, couldn’t run, couldn’t hide. I have a tracking chip embedded inside me, sending an alert to the global police force if I get a mile outside my designated zone. I’m trapped here, and I hate it.”

Trowa squeezed Duo’s hand, his thumb rubbing circles on the inside of his wrist. Warm breath blew against his ear, the weight of Duo’s body pressing him further into the padded floor as he stretched out along the top of him, thumb smoothing against his cheek in an idle motion.

“The others? They don’t seem to care. They’re willing to stay in that dingy little office for the rest of their natural lives. But us? We’ve never had that stability. That structure, that sense of knowing what the next day will bring. This… this existence? It’s monotonous. It’s _boring_.”

Trowa trailed a hand up Duo’s back, rubbing lightly, and Duo took a shuddering breath, head pressing against Trowa’s shoulder. Trowa kneaded at the back of his neck, and Duo squirmed away, drawing a sharp breath.

“B-but that little section in the newspaper. It was stupid at first. I thought so, anyway. How could some chick named Tina Valentina know what was in store for me? I mean, I don’t even know what day I was born, let alone month. So I decided to figure out what made it so great to end up in the news, of all things. And… it was interesting. How they figured personality types and traits and characteristics from a _birthday_. Was there something about the season, the lack of sun? Would that mean colonials like us have different traits than terran born on the same day? What about the hemispheres? I had to know. So I studied. Wufei’s right, it’s not concrete fact. But…”

“It’s different. It’s not focused here,” Trowa murmured. “It lets you imagine that there’s something better out there, something outside the little prison we’ve been put in. That we could be human like the rest of them. That we’re not monsters.”

Duo’s fingers clutched at him, and Trowa opened his eyes, looking into the desperate, flushed face above him. “You are homesick, and found a way to get as close to the stars as you could. I don’t blame you for that.”

“Heero’s told me that,” Duo murmured, “but he didn’t get it either. You—”

The door slammed open, and the conversation was cut short as dozens of body-armored officers filled the room, guns trained on them.

* * *

“You can’t just walk off like that,” Une said, voice firm. Trowa wasn’t paying her much attention, instead looking out the window at the overcast sky. That was the thing he didn’t like about Earth, the weather changed too fast without warning. “The terms of your employment—”

“I didn’t realize employees were embedded with tracking chips to monitor their every move,” Trowa murmured, soft, lilting. Une sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and leaning back in her chair.

“Most employees weren’t child soldiers in a war, Barton. You should understand that most of all.”

“Bullshit.” He could still feel it roiling within him, emotions that were trapped behind self-control, straining to free themselves, to lash out, to destroy. He had felt them as he’d flown, had lost himself in them earlier, had found a way to let them _leave_ , but now they were back, and he was longing to fly again.

“This is your first offense since the conditions were set forth, so you’re getting a warning.”

“And Duo?” Trowa asked, mild, and Une shook her head.

“Is not your concern.”

“Commander,” he said, leaning forward, eyes glittering in the fluorescent lamps lining the wall. Une, to her credit, didn’t flinch away. “He is every bit my concern.”

“You two might be… involved, but that doesn’t make you privy to the consequences of his actions.”

“I coerced him,” Trowa insisted. Une raised a brow, and Trowa gestured to the computer monitor on her desk. “Look at the feed yourself. Chang insulted Duo, causing him emotional distress. I took advantage of the condition and manipulated him into helping me escape. I then forced my affections onto him, knowing that he is already in a committed relationship with Yuy, and he was in the process of trying to convince me to let him go when the police arrived.”

“You realize that is a more serious offense than you two skipping out of work to trespass on private property and have a personal liaison?”

“I do.”

“And you do realize I know that you’re lying to me?”

“I do.”

“Yet you’re going to insist this is the truth, regardless.”

Trowa stared her down, and she sighed. She seemed to do that more with every encounter they had, and it only gave him a brief sense of satisfaction that faded before Une had the chance to speak again.

“Duo will get off with a warning. He was still within his designated zone and under emotional duress. You will be placed in house arrest for two months starting immediately without pay as you had left your allowed area. I will drop the charges of coercion and… whatever else you’d insist on sticking yourself with if you agree to these terms. Is that acceptable? Or would you like to wear handcuffs and finish your fantasy?”

“If you have them on you,” Trowa said, pushing his hands out. Une slapped them away, standing up.

“You’ll be escorted to your apartment. Arrangements will be made in regards to basic necessities and food. I will be in contact with you.”

* * *

Two weeks had passed since he’d been quarantined into his apartment. The downstairs neighbours were unusually quiet during the day, and it took four passing until he realized that they _were_ college students, and despite their party nature actually attended their courses.

Mrs. Betty, on the other hand, had finally come to know of Trowa’s existence on the other side of the wall. The uniformed police escorting Trowa into the building, up the elevator, and pass her door as she was coming back from grocery shopping had clued the woman in, and since then had stopped by every day to check on ‘the poor boy next door.’

He wasn’t sure if he appreciated the human contact or despised it. He settled for a deep indifference until he could assess it further. But she brought him flavourless soups and casseroles three times a day, and introduced him to the plot of the soap opera she was enamoured with.

On the second day, he asked about a newspaper, she’d brought him one every morning since. He skipped all the articles about the peace treaties, new laws passing, the familiar “Fate of the Five” debate that had a reserved spoton page A-7 by this point, and located the small little corner of the paper that housed the horoscopes.

He wondered if Duo still read them in the office. Or if it had been the final straw for him. He still cut each one out, dutifully taping it to his wall, each one being placed with care under the appropriate names. These ones, however, were lacking in the penned commentary, the little quips he’d write that Duo had said, or the argument of the day. These were just copies from a borrowed newspaper, cut out and taped to make Trowa feel like he understood what Duo was looking for.

He didn’t.

The knock on his door was too early to be Mrs. Betty with dinner, and Trowa couldn’t stop himself from palming his knife, a paring knife but the closest he could get to his throwing knives, as he leaned against the wall beside the door, listening intently.

“Yo, I know you’re in here, Tro. Open up already and put the knives away.”

Trowa leaned his head back against the wall, tension fading from his body. But he made no move to unlock the deadbolt, or to put the knife away.

“Trowa Barton, don’t make me break in there.”

He didn’t know how Duo found his apartment. Though, it wouldn’t be too hard. It was on record, after all, and it would only take a peek into his folder to find the address. Or he could have asked Quatre, who had been here when he signed the lease, had cosigned with him to make up for Trowa’s lack of personal history, had helped him move in the meager furniture, had disapproved of Trowa’s choices but didn’t force him to change. Quatre, who only ever wanted the best for Trowa, even if he didn’t know how to give that.

“Seriously, you’re gonna pretend you’re not home? I know you are, you’re _under house arrest_. You ain’t going nowhere. Now let me in before I decide you’ve fled the coop and let Commander Cranky know. Don’t make me do that, I don’t wanna deal with that shit.”

Trowa twisted the deadbolt, unlatched the chain, and twisted the little nob on the door handle. But he didn’t open the door. He didn’t greet Duo. Duo pushed the door open himself, crossing his arms and glaring up at Trowa.

“You’re a dick,” he said, and Trowa shrugged.

“So I’ve heard.”

“ _You_ ,” Duo started, shoving at Trowa’s chest, taking a step into Trowa’s space, into his apartment, into his _world_. “You lied. To Une.”

“I often do,” Trowa conceded.

“Coercion? _Emotional duress_?” Duo’s voice was rising, the decibels climbing without the cracking that often accompanied Wufei or Quatre when they did the same. “Do you really think I’m as weak as to fall for that?” Another shove against Trowa’s chest had his knees against the edge of the bed, but he kept his balance. He could allow Duo to push him around, but he couldn’t stand the thought of being pushed down. “Do you?”

Trowa didn’t answer. He felt a hand touch his cheek. He jerked back, forgetting for a moment the bed was there, and nearly fell over. Duo’s hand grabbed his arm though, pulling him forward, and hands wrapped around him, carded through his hair, stroked his back. He was confused, felt he had missed something, a transition from the anger to the comfort, some cue that had allowed the change to happen. But it had, and Duo was stroking his hair, long strokes that had his nails scraping against his scalp, and Trowa pressed into the touch, into the warmth, and his eyes fluttered open again. He didn’t remember closing them.

“I’m sorry, so sorry, Tro. I wasn’t thinking, I just came barging in, are you okay? What do you need?”

He needed to fly. But he couldn’t even see the sun from in here. The windowless walls, the small room that grew smaller the more time he spent in it. The days going by slower and slower, the time between visits from Mrs. Betty growing longer. His face was pressed into the fabric of Duo’s sweatshirt, whispered words brushing the shell of his ear.

“—didn’t do anything wrong. Okay? I’m sorry I yelled at you. Just let me know what you need. It’s my fault you’re stuck here, let me help you, Tro. Partners in crime, right? Gotta stick together, can’t leave you locked away alone.”

“What’re you talking about?” Trowa asked, and Duo leaned back, cupping Trowa’s face, thumbs brushing under his eyes. Trowa wrinkled his nose, and Duo gave him a soft smile.

“You’re apartment’s shit, man. Quatre said he hated it, but I never understood what he was talking about. How long do you have?”

“She said two months,” Trowa told him. Duo nodded, a glint in his eye that had Trowa’s stomach twisting.

“Then we’re gonna get to know each other _very_ well.”

Trowa wanted to ask what he meant, but he decided against it. He was confused enough as it was. And making sense of Duo took more effort than he felt like expending. He made himself clear though when two hours after leaving Trowa alone again, he was back with a bag slung across his back and a pillow tucked under his arm, grinning brightly.

“Hello, roomie!”

* * *

“Okay, and I thought I was obsessed with the horoscopes,” Duo said, stretched out on the bed and looking at the wall of newspaper clippings. “You do this every day?”

“Every morning,” Trowa confirmed, cutting out the space around Capricorn and taping it under Wufei’s section. Duo stared at it, brows pinching together, and his eyes scanned back, mapping out the chronological progression displayed.

“You wrote out—” he whispered, fingers touching the inked additions next to the printed lettering. _‘a.k.a. you need to get laid’_ Flushing, he looked over at Trowa, who was now cutting out the next horoscope.

“It helps,” Trowa said, voice low, eyes unable to meet Duo’s. “Helps me see how you see things.”

“Is that important for you?” Duo asked, and Trowa nodded. Duo didn’t push, didn’t ask _“Why?”_ even though it was vibrating in the room, thick in the air, and Trowa taped up Quatre’s horoscope, leaving it unanswered.

“Here, hand me a pen. I gotta catch up on the last few weeks,” Duo said. Trowa reached over to the desk, picking off a pen, and put it in Duo’s waiting hands. Fingers closed around his hand, and he didn’t even consider pulling away. It was finally Duo who withdrew, fingers tracing along Trowa’s, forming around the pen as he shifted to sit cross-legged on the bed, scribbling along the edge of the newspaper, adding in the quips and comments that he’d been unable to hear during his house arrest.

“Wufei hasn’t said anything since you yelled at him,” Duo told Trowa. “I think you offended him, but he’s been more… reserved? He’ll even ask questions about what different signs mean. It’s kind of weird.”

“As long as he learns to watch his tongue,” Trowa muttered, and Duo tilted his head, letting it rest against Trowa’s shoulder as he added a line to each entry.

“You’re the first person to do that,” he told Trowa. “To stand up for me. I mean, Quatre—don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it—but he only ever diverts attention from the argument. It wasn’t the same. Heero ignores it entirely, I’m not sure he’s even aware we’re arguing most mornings. But… you’re the first to actually stand up _for_ me. It… it means a lot.”

Hands were tracing the lines of his shoulders, sweeping down his arms, and lips pressing behind his ear. Duo’s firm chest was against his back, and Trowa let his head fall back to rest on Duo’s shoulder.

“No one’s ever done what you’ve done for me. No one’s tried to understand me before. And, Tro, tell me if I’m wrong, but I think the same can be said about you. Has anyone ever stood up for you before? Has anyone been willing to take the fall for you? Has anyone ever tried to know you the way you’re trying to know me? Or have they all been complacent, pitying you, trying to fix you in their own image?”

He moaned, hands flexing as the scissors fell from his grasp, the paper in his hand fluttering to the ground. Hands were tracing his body, sliding up under his shirt, splaying out across his stomach and stroking lightly.

“Is that why you study us? Do you believe that if you can understand how _we_ work, you’ll figure out how _you_ work?” Trowa’s back was against the bed, Duo climbing onto his lap, his shirt missing as well as Trowa’s. Hands were rubbing against the front of his crotch, undoing the button of his jeans, sliding in under the waistband of his briefs and grasping the half-hard erection forming from Duo’s attentions.

“I know how you work, Trowa. Let me tell you.” He pulled Trowa out of his pants, sliding the jeans and briefs down his thighs, past his knees, and off the edge of the bed. Duo’s flannel pants felt strange against the bare skin.

“You’re quiet, almost shy if it weren’t for your sharp tongue when you decide to speak. No, not shy at all. Sharp-witted, acerbic, cynical, and antagonistic.” Trowa shuddered, arching his back as Duo’s hands roamed his body, stroking, teasing, drawing out sounds he couldn’t quite contain. The brush of hair against his thigh as Duo shifted, his braid dragging across his skin, his body so real and warm against Trowa’s.

“You think about everything, every word, every nuance, every detail. You don’t share it though until you’re a hundred-percent certain that you’re speaking what you’re intending to say. Nothing you do is meaningless. So while you’re quiet, you’re not shy, nor stupid.” Duo’s hand was wrapped around both of them, pressing their cocks together as Duo thrust up against him, urging Trowa to do the same, drawing them into a slow, heated dance.

“You feel as though your lacking,” Duo said, his voice breathy, airy, tinged with need. “That you’re missing a core part of you that makes you human. But when you’re in danger, you feel whole. Complete.” Teeth were digging into his shoulder, his neck, his jaw. Marks that would linger, would show bright against his skin, pale from the lack of sunlight. His nails raked down Duo’s back, leaving marks of his own.

“It’s why you miss flying, why you miss piloting, why you miss the circus. It’s why you push at the boundaries of our confinement, why you break onto the roof, why you lean so far back.” Trowa’s heels dug into the bed, head tossed back, eyes wide, unseeing. But Duo wouldn’t let him float away. His hand came to turn his face toward Duo’s, foreheads touching, eyes burning into his, exposing his soul to the only person he knew who tried to find it.

“You don’t know if you really want to fall or not, you don’t want to die, but you don’t feel _human_.” Lips grazed his own, violet eyes burning hot, not letting Trowa break their gaze as he drew out their completion, spilling across Trowa’s body, toes tingling.

“You’re human, Trowa. So very, very human. I know this, I’ve seen it, I felt it.” His lips pressed harder, opening up Trowa’s mouth, exploring with his tongue, tasting the very essence of Trowa’s soul. “You’re no more a monster than the rest of us. Just a little more wild, a little less tame.  Feral.”

Teeth bit into his bottom lip, soothed away with soft kisses. “But, I like you that way.” Steady hands wiped away the mess, smoothed through Trowa’s hair, traced the contours of his face.

He felt like he was flying.

* * *

Duo’s back was pressed against his chest, his head pillowed on Trowa’s forearm, both of them staring at the wall. There wasn’t much else to do; Trowa didn’t own a computer, or a television, and the two books he owned had been read back and forth so many times over the last six weeks they both memorized each line. Sex was a good past time, but it couldn’t erase the long hours in between their joining.

“You go back to work tomorrow,” Duo murmured, and Trowa hummed, pressing his face into Duo’s hair and inhaling. He still smelled like sex. The sweat having dried in the cool air of the apartment, the mess cleaned up and disposed of, but neither had showered, neither had dressed. They would need to get dressed soon, Mrs. Betty would be coming over with dinner in thirty minutes. But that was thirty minutes from now, and Trowa had no desire to move until he had to.

“Une is pushing for them to lessen the restrictions on us. To allow us more freedom to move,” Duo said, fingers tracing patterns on Trowa’s arm. “She’s going with the, _“They’ll never learn to be like other people if we keep them locked away in fear,”_ angle.” The impression of Commander Une’s voice was spot on, enough to get Trowa’s back tensing, ready to fight. Duo turned in his arms, nudging their lips together lazily, calming down Trowa’s ruffled nerves.

“She’s thrown your name around a lot, which pisses me off, but you make a real good case study right now.” Fingers traced along his collar, pressing against the lingering bruises littering the expanse of flesh. “She’s tossed mine around a few times,” he grinned ruefully, “with the whole ‘ _emotionally compromised and distressed’_ direction we got ourselves stuck in. She says she’s hopeful. That this has made us appear more…”

“More human,” Trowa finished for him. Duo wrinkled his nose, sighing.

“Yeah, more human.”

“How is Heero going to take us coming back?” Trowa asked, the silence having lapsed again. Five minutes until he had to put clothes on, had to answer the door for dotty Mrs. Betty and her watery soup. But he wanted to know if this would be the last time he held Duo like this, got to breath him in, got to feel him in and around himself. Duo raised a brow, scooting back to get a better look at Trowa.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you two not in a relationship?”

Duo stared, long enough for Trowa to feel his adrenaline rising, his defenses kicking in, and then Duo laughed, pushing Trowa onto his back, straddling him. His hair was unbound, falling in waves around them, shielding them from the view of the too-tiny apartment.

“You really thought—you know what? I’m not gonna ask. But you’re wrong. Heero’s not my anything, except occasional roommate if he gets pissed enough at Wufei to leave his bed.” Trowa looked up into those dancing, dark violet eyes, and only found truth.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I taught him everything he knows, but it wasn’t because we were feeling the romance. It was a mutual benefit that ended as soon as he decided to pursue Wufei, and I didn’t want to be the piece of side.”

“Wufei knows,” Trowa realized. “It’s why he gets angered when Heero defends you.”

“Yeah, he’s a bit jealous. He doesn’t understand it though. We just needed to feel a little more human, and Heero had no idea what went where and how to use his junk. So, win-win, but nothing like this.” Duo leaned over, nibbling at Trowa’s lips. Trowa reached up, lacing his hands through Duo’s hair, and pulling him closer.

“Dears, are you still in there? I have soup!” Mrs. Betty called through the door, knocking on the door. Duo sighed gustily, pulling back with a chagrined smile.

“Let’s eat. Then, we’re gonna spend the next two months at _my_ place. You really need windows, man.”

“Mmm, I like the view from here, though,” Trowa replied, and Duo grinned, hopping off and wiggling his ass as he picked through their clothes for something to wear. Mrs. Betty didn’t seem to mind the wait, handing over the soup and giving Duo a hug, rambling on about what Ivanovitch did on her soap opera today, and when she finally said farewell, and the door was closed, Duo shook his head and set the lukewarm soup down on the counter.

“Gonna miss that woman,” he told Trowa. “Crazy, but kind.”

“She’s lonely,” Trowa agreed, stretching out along the bed, kicking the covers away now that Mrs. Betty was gone. “And you remind her of her dead husband.”

“No, Tro, that’s not it. She’s got a thing for _you_ ,” Duo corrected, sitting on the bed and handing Trowa a bowl. “Which I can’t blame her. You’re a fine piece of man.”

Trowa leaned against Duo, eating the bland, cold soup, listening to the party getting underway below him, and the sound of people shouting dramatically to the right.

* * *

“Welcome back, boys,” Une greeted, eyes roaming their faces, looking for something Trowa wasn’t sure she’d find. But, she seemed satisfied, and turning, gestured for them to follow. Duo’s hand slipped into his, squeezing tightly before relaxing, their fingers loosely twined as they made their way to the elevators that led up to the third floor. Une’s office was one of many, and when the door closed behind them he could no longer hear the sound of phones ringing, music playing, or people talking.

“There has been progress in your cases, so I am asking informally that you two remain on your best behaviour. I understand things haven’t been ideal, and there is much to be resolved and rectified on your behalf.”

The last comment had her looking at Trowa, and it was him she spoke to as she said, “Your radius has been expanded to include Duo’s area, and vice versa. No more sneaking off during work hours to spend time together, understood?”

Trowa nodded, and Duo’s hand against his back, rubbing lightly, had the tension fading. Une nodded, satisfied, and then smiled.

“I am glad that you two have found comfort in each other. While we normally would not allow couples to work in the same office, your situation is unique. So, as I have also instructed Chang and Yuy, continue to remain respectful and appropriate at work. That is all.”

The trip up to their office, on the very top floor, had Trowa gripping the hem of his shirt, wondering just how much would have changed.

“Relax, love, we got this. It’s in our stars, remember?”

Yes, he did remember. Duo had opened the newspaper that morning, cutting out their signs, and taping them up under their names. His comments to their horoscopes had been directed specifically to Trowa, had been meant for him to cling to.

_‘Nothing can stop us.’_

So he straightened his back, raised his chin, and stepped off the elevator, Duo bounding ahead of him to distract the other three while Trowa readjusted to the office space. By the time things settled down, greetings and apologies were handed out, and it was like two months hadn’t passed at all.

“So, you and Duo…” Quatre said, as Duo teased Wufei loud enough to overwhelm the microphones, giving them cover for private conversations. Trowa realized, watching Duo and Wufei banter, that this was the intention. How long had they been providing opportunities for Quatre and Trowa to talk? “He’s been pining after you for the last year, I didn’t think you’d see it though.”

“I learned to read the signs,” Trowa answered. Quatre smiled.

“I see that. And has it helped?”

Trowa nodded, eyes following Duo as he danced out of the way of Wufei’s reach before darting back in and drawing a smiley face on his cheek with a pen.

“Do you still think talking to someone would help?”

“I talk with Duo. It helps.”

Quatre looked over him, blue eyes intent, searching, before nodding.

“I am glad.”

Lunch time had Trowa and Duo sitting on the roof again, much like that first time, Trowa leaning back slightly, hands gripping the rail and feet locked on the lower rung.

“Still feel like falling?” Duo asked. Trowa leaned forward, sliding one foot above the rung, using the strength of his legs to keep himself elevated. He put his hands on the roof, feet moving, pushing him up into a handstand.

“No,” he decided. It was true. “I found a new way to fly.”

He rolled forward, coming to lay out next to Duo, his head against Duo’s calf. Duo looked down at him, and Trowa returned it steadily.

“You showed me,” he said. “You showed me that I don’t have to miss it so much, that there’s other ways to feel that rush.”

“Good,” Duo said, resting his own head against Trowa’s leg. They laid there until Duo’s alarm went off, telling them it was time to go back to work. Before they went back down though, Duo pulled him into a kiss, hands framing his face, his touch as gentle as their first time.

“We followed the signs, Trowa. Soon, we’ll find our way back among the stars. If you ever feel like falling, tell me. I’ll show you how to fly again. As many times as you need me to.”

Trowa believed him. It was written all along his wall, in months of clippings, with Duo’s words written along every scrap.

_‘We control our own destiny.’_


End file.
